


Reforged

by kattybats



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alchemy, Angst, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Forbidden Magic, Gen, Loss of Limbs, Prejudice, Prosthetics, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattybats/pseuds/kattybats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins found Thorin Oakenshield's nephew to be very... odd. If he were to be quite honest with himself, he would discover that he actually found Kili to be so far as strange, and really quite fearful. “Does he really never take that armor off?” he asked Bofur while the prince was off watching the ponies.</p>
<p>(In which Fili is missing an arm and a leg and Kili is a suit of armor. Or, a Fullmetal Alchemist AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bilbo

Bilbo Baggins found Thorin Oakenshield's nephew to be very... odd. If he were to be quite honest with himself, he would discover that he actually found Kili to be so far as _strange_ , and really quite fearful, but he is a Baggins, and Bagginses (and hobbit in general) are supposed to be polite.

“You're curious about him, aren't you,” Bofur guessed one evening, sitting around the fire when Thorin was out of earshot and Kili was watching the ponies.

“I, well, yes,” Bilbo had to admit. “Does he really _never_ take that armor off?”

“Rumor has it,” Bofur said with a waggle of his eyebrows, “That the younger prince was attacked and nearly killed, and that he is now so scarred he can't bear to be looked at.”

“I see,” Bilbo said, tilting his head. “Wait... younger prince?”

Bofur nodded. “Aye, but his older brother was gravely injured in the same attack, and is now too crippled to fight. A pity too, for he was said to show great promise as a warrior.”

“I heard that they were dabbling in forbidden magics,” Ori piped up from across the fire.

“Magic!” Bilbo exclaimed. “I did not know you dwarves worked magic.”

“It is forbidden,” Dori stated from next to Ori, as if that explained why Bilbo had never heard of it. “Taught to the first dwarves by Mahal's apprentice Sauron, it is said. Mahal was highly displeased by this, as it is the act of creation he enjoys, not the creation itself, and wanted the dwarves to have that same love. And so, like others before, his curse fell upon the princes. It's said that young Kili can never take that armor off because it's the only thing holding his body together.”

“What if it was damaged?”

Bofur shrugged. “Your guess is as good as ours. Maybe it's like his skin, and if it was damaged his insides would fall out. Maybe he really is just scarred. _Maybe_ it's not even Kili, just an automaton that _thinks_ it's Kili, and there's not _anything_ inside.”

Bilbo shuddered at the thought.

* * *

After Bilbo rejoined the others after their escape from Goblin Town, he noticed that many of the dwarves were keeping a wary distance from Kili.

“You don't want to know,” was all that Bofur said, pulling his hat down low.

* * *

Bilbo did not find out until the dwarves had been put in the elves' dungeons what it was that the dwarves had seen in Goblin Town. While he thought it odd that the elves would strip the other dwarves of their weapons but leave Kili in his armor, he did not find out why until he overheard a conversation between Kili and a red-headed guard.

“Someone must have loved you very much,” the elf, whose name Bilbo would later learn to be Tauriel, said.

“He still does,” Kili had replied.

“What did he give up for you? Can I ask that? You do not have to answer,” she quickly added.

“His sword arm,” Kili answered. “It was not as big a loss as it could have been; he is proficient with his other arm, and he had already lost his leg above the knee. Too much to fight with.”

“What happened?” Tauriel asked, eyes soft.

“I... do not wish to talk about it.”

After Tauriel had left Bilbo approached the cell. “I, er, I overheard you with that elf earlier,” he said. “What did she mean, about someone giving something up for you?”

Kili sighed. “Of course, you were not with us in Goblin Town, so you would not know,” he said more to himself than to Bilbo. “My older brother and I, we did something very stupid. And I... well I died.”

Bilbo scoffed. “Don't be ridiculous, you're here now so you can't be dead.”

Kili held out his arms in a placating manner. “Look, I'm going to show you what everybody else knows, so just, don't scream. Don't want the elves to know you're here, eh? Promise you won't scream, or panic, or any of that.”

Bilbo nodded. “I promise,” he said, though he wondered what he was getting himself into. And so, promise given, Kili lifted his hands to his helmet and took it off. And let me tell you, dear reader, that despite his promise Bilbo fainted nearly straight away, for inside Kili's armor was, just as Bofur had suggested at the beginning of the journey, absolutely nothing. Though Bilbo at least had the good sense to slip his magic ring on before fainting.

After his fainting spell, Bilbo found out a great many things about Kili. He found out that something he and his brother had done had gone very wrong, and the younger dwarf had been killed, so Fili (for that was his older brother's name) had bound his brother's soul to the nearest thing at hand – an empty suit of armor – and so Kili still lived, though it was a shadow of a real life.

“What is that circle I saw then?” Bilbo asked. “Is that how he bound you?”

Kili nodded. “Yes, it's called alchemy. The elves know it, for they know of most things like it.”

“So Dori was right, you were practicing forbidden magic.”

“It's not _forbidden_ ,” Kili drawled. “Just, highly discouraged with a very bad reputation. But it's not as dangerous as all that. You just have to get the balance of materials right. That's where the bad reputation comes from, dwarves getting greedy and trying to get more from less. A lot of trying to turn lesser metals into gold, that sort of thing. And when that happens, it rebounds... pretty brutally,” he ended quieter than he had begun.

“But if you do it right, then it's fine. That, balance of materials.”

“Yep! Do you want to see?”

Bilbo was startled by the offer. “Here? Now?”

“Of course! Watch.” Kili put his hands together like he was praying, then pressed them to the floor of his cell. Bilbo blinked rapidly as miniature lightening bolts flashed where Kili had placed his hands, and when the dust settled and he could stop blinking, a perfect replica of his own Sting rose up out of the ground.

His jaw dropped. “That's amazing!”

Kili nodded rapidly, and Bilbo knew that if he had a proper face he'd be smiling. “Isn't it? My brother and I discovered a book about it hidden away when we were quite young. We studied it in secret and got quite good. We didn't have a lot of money, so we started using it to help out, fixing broken things, things like that. Only then our father caught us at it. We got whupped soundly for that. But we just couldn't stop. We just were more careful about when we practiced.”

He took a finger and traced it around the bowl-shaped indent around the miniature Sting. “See this here? You can't use alchemy to create something from nothing, or vice-versa, you can only turn one thing into another. To create Sting I took from the surrounding floor.”

Bilbo frowned, a thought occurring to him. “You can put it back the way it was though, right?”

“Of course.” And he did so.

Bilbo was thinking hard. “Kili, on how large a scale can you work?”

“Honestly? I've never tried to find out. Fairly big though. Why?”

And thus Bilbo Baggins and Kili Dis's son plotted to break the dwarves out of the Elvenking's palace.

* * *

If any of the other dwarves were disturbed about the manner of their escape, none showed it. Indeed, Thorin seemed to be looking at Kili in a new light. “Master Baggins, well done for an excellently plotted escape. Kili, a word.” Bilbo, whose Took side was making itself known and absolutely un-ignorable, snuck along with to listen in.

“I know I have been hard on you,” Thorin started.

“You had every right to.”

Thorin shook his head. “No, I did not. Not at first, at any rate, not after your mother first told me what your father had caught you two doing. Furious at you, for fixing a leaking roof of all things! I was a fool, and a hypocrite as well.”

“...Uncle? You mean...?”

“Yes, Kili. Why do you think that book was there for you to find? I thought I could use it to help our people, but I do not have the natural aptitude you and your brother do. Better to work with my own two hands, than to go against the Maker's teachings I thought. And of course I took you two on as apprentices then, hoping to show you what I believed. I thought I had.” He paused. “I should have paid closer attention.”

Kili put an armored hand on his uncle's shoulder. “You could not have known what we were planning. Mother did not even.”

“No. I could have. I knew that your mother's grief was the same. I would never ask her, and you shouldn't either, but it will forever remain possible that she had an inkling, some small suspicion, and did nothing.” Thorin's own hand mirrored Kili's. “But you were already better than all those who came before you, for the both of you did what you did not out of greed, but out of love. And I am sorry I did not try to understand better.”

“You understood well enough, Uncle. After all, it was you who agreed that the libraries of Erebor would have the best information on the subject.”

Bilbo, deciding he had heard enough, crept away to rejoin the main group.

* * *

Upon hearing the news from the ravens, of the burning of Laketown and the marching of the men and elves, Thorin gave the orders. “We march back to Erebor. We will have to fortify the main gate against invaders.” He looked to Kili as he said this, meaning clear.

There was a murmur amongst the Company, for despite the means of their escape from the Elvenking's palace this was the first time Thorin had outright told Kili to use alchemy. Especially upon finding out the truth of Kili's existence, they had been more wary than ever of strange magic of any kind, and while they appreciated how he had facilitated their escape Kili was still an interloper, not quite to be trusted. Bilbo however, had had the mechanics of alchemy thoroughly explained to him by Kili during their stay in Laketown, the young dwarf taking company where he could, and knew there was no danger.

And once the fortifications had been made, none of the dwarves found they could judge Kili for shoddy workmanship.

* * *

The Battle of Five Armies came, and went, and took. And when the dust settled everyone knew what Kili could do, and what he was.

Bilbo did not stay much longer after that.

* * *

It was early summer, a month after Bilbo had returned to Hobbiton, that a peculiar knock sounded upon his round green door. It was a particularly heavy knock, and Bilbo thought briefly that it might be Gandalf before deciding that it was much too soon for the wizard to pass through again. So he answered his door, entirely unsure of what he would find.

Upon his front stoop stood two dwarves, one of whom he would gather to be somewhat older and the other to be quite young, and shorter as well. The older dwarf bore a remarkable resemblance to Thorin Oakenshield, and the other, while lighter in coloring, had similar features. “Princess Dis-” the darker, older one greeted imperiously without so much as a nod, “-and Prince Fili-” the lighter one continued with a very short bow, “-at your service,” they finished together.

“My brother bade us to seek out Bilbo Baggins on the way to Erebor and bring back news of his health, as you hobbits do not understand the languages of birds,” Dis said, and if he had not just then remembered that Fili was the name of Kili's brother Bilbo might have been very confused.

He quickly gestured for them to enter. “I am he. Please, come in. I was just sitting down to elevensies.”

Dis accepted the invitation with a tilt of her head and did so, followed by her son. Once they were no longer side-by-side, Bilbo could see that the prince was indeed missing the entirety of his right arm, and walked with a pronounced limp. Bilbo led them to the dining room, told them to sit down, and quickly made his excuses to hurry off and fetch more food from the pantry.

When he came back with a very large platter (he remembered well the unexpected party), he found that Dis and Fili had not only sat down, but were already sipping cups of tea – tea that Bilbo had not poured for them himself! He opened and closed his mouth twice at this breach in propriety, then decided to take it in stride. He laid out the foodstuffs and poured his own cup of tea, and Bilbo questioned them on their journey so far.

As they talked he watched Fili, and wondered how much Kili resembled him. The prince ate and drank carefully, taking only that which did not need to be cut with a knife, and took his biscuits dry. Bilbo saw his mother glance at him when he did, and thought perhaps she was wondering if an offer of help would be appreciated or spurned. While Bilbo did not understand this desire to not appear weak or needing help, he did recognize it for what it was, for he had seen a much louder version of it in Thorin in the days after the battle.

It was when Fili paused in his eating to reach down and rub at his thigh that Dis finally spoke up. “Are you well, Fili?”

“Just some phantom pains. I keep telling you mother, I can walk alongside far more than you are letting me.”

Bilbo hid a smile behind his teacup, for the tone of a child feeling over-coddled by a parent is universal across all races. “Phantom pains?” he asked, instead of stating his thoughts.

Fili nodded. “Aye. Sometimes the mind does not notice when the body loses something, and so you feel things that are not there.”

“Oh! Oh!” Bilbo exclaimed. “Then I am more glad than ever none of the Company lost any limbs in the battle, and for the most part only sustained minor wounds!”

Dis's eyes went sharp. “Battle? What battle?”

And so it came out that Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, Second of That Name, had neglected to tell his sister about the Battle of Five Armies when he wrote to her about the success of the Quest. And so Bilbo filled them in on many of the happenings during that fateful journey, though he kept just as many things to himself. I need not repeat it for you dear reader have heard it all before. By the time he was done and had answered many questions, Dis was huffing. “Well then! Well then indeed!” she kept repeating, looking put out and at least a little bit furious.

For his part Fili's eyes had twinkled in amusement at certain parts. “I am more sorry than ever I could not come and lend my sword to the cause,” he said when Bilbo was done, to which Dis eyed him and said “Well then!” several times more.

Bilbo reached over and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. “Well I for one can say with some certainty that your brother wished you were there also, though he hid it well.”

“And how was Kili when you left Erebor, Master Baggins?”

Bilbo thought hard about that. “I cannot honestly say, to tell you truthfully. I did not see him very much after the battle. He had many royal businesses to attend to what with the reclaiming of the kingdom, and all that, and I heard from another that he was spending what little free time he had in the remains of the libraries. I poked my head in there myself you know, I do love books, but they were an awful mess. I believe I will travel back someday, once you dwarves have had time to set things to rights.”

“Oh. I see.”

And poor Fili for a moment looked so forlorn that Bilbo decided sod politeness. “Here, let me put some jam on that for you.”

Dis and Fili excused themselves to return to their caravan shortly after, for the road was long and they still had many miles and many weeks of travel ahead of them. As he stood Fili leaned with his hand, in a practiced manner, on the table and led with his right leg. To everyone's surprise and his apparent embarrassment, his left did not entirely unbend. He banged it twice against a leg of the chair, and when that did not fully straighten it Dis leaned down and did so with her own two hands. Fili bore this with a quiet dignity. “Road dust,” he explained as there was the sound of grinding metal that did not want to move.

“You shall have to oil it when we get back to the wagons,” Dis scolded him, and watched him carefully as he moved, limping even more than before.

Bilbo sent them off with a basket of biscuits and jars of jam and packets of tea leaves and whatever else he could reasonably force upon traveling dwarves, not just to be polite, but out of the goodness of his heart.


	2. Fili

If there was one thing Fili did not like, it was having to be carried into Erebor on a litter.

(He would later learn that his esteemed uncle the King had had to suffer through the same indignity, but at the time he was simply injured and cursing orcs.)

Two days from Erebor they had been attacked by orcs in the night. While Fili could passably fight on his prosthetic leg, he had taken it off to rest and so had been nearly helpless. He hadn't been able to so much as scratch the orc before it stepped hard on his forearm and ground down, breaking the bone, and then had been nearly gutted before being rescued. In the end he had passed out from blood loss, having that much less to lose in the first place, and when he awoke it was to find that his death had been very close.

They lost a day and a half to the attack, and when they did arrive at Erebor he was still extremely weak. Thorin was beside himself when he learned what had happened, but Fili barely noticed. He spent most of the next few days sleeping in the quarters that had been given him. They were large, and felt empty with the minimal furnishings available. He tried to stay awake when he had visitors, especially Kili, but found he simply could not.

With his broken arm, he could not do anything for himself. He had to be fed, clothed, and bathed all by another dwarf. It reminded him sickeningly of the days following his and Kili's attempt to bring their father back to life, drugged on herbs to dull the pain and sometimes hallucinating, calling for their father and sobbing for Kili. Within two weeks he had recovered enough that this was taking a serious toll on his temper. The only dwarf he kept himself in check around was Kili, but Kili did not visit nearly as often as he would like.

“I'm busy in the library,” was all his brother said when asked.

“Well bring the books in here!” Fili snapped. “I'm not blind, am I? I can still read at least!”

At Fili's urging Kili managed to set up a stand over Fili's lap to prop books on, and even with his arm splinted Fili could still turn pages. Now Kili brought his research to Fili's room, and Fili was able to feel well and truly useful for the first time since the last dead end in their research, several years ago.

As suspected, Erebor's libraries held an enormous amount of knowledge on the supposedly forbidden practice of alchemy. Despite the damage caused by a hundred and seventy years of neglect, Kili still brought many books back to Fili's room for reading, and instead of being returned to the library they merely grew up in stacks along the walls. Fili's caregivers came and went with some speed as they grew tired of bearing the brunt of his frustration and demanded relief, and all of them eyed the books with wariness and fear.

It was after he had been in Erebor for a month and a half, not having left his room the entire time, out of books to read, and having not seen Kili for the past two days, that Fili decided he had had _enough_ , danger of falling and re-breaking his arm even worse be damned. “Farin!” he barked for his current assistant, “Help me with my leg!”

“Your Highness...” Farin sighed, but otherwise gave no argument. Fili was sure it was a matter of days before he was replaced.

Fili's prosthetic was a masterwork of dwarven engineering, but that didn't change what it was: a heavy lump of metal fastened to his stump with leather straps. Gears and weights and counterbalances allowed the facsimile of a knee to bend when he walked, and there was a rarely-used locking mechanism, but that was the extent of it. It was susceptible to dust and grime and squeaking and had to be cleaned and oiled just like any other complicated machinery. Thorin had done his best over the decades to give Fili increased mobility, and this leg was a leap and a bound from his first one, but Fili understood that this was as far as it would go. He tired more easily due to his gait. If he walked for too long the extra weight caused his hip to ache. He could take care of daily cleaning, but needed someone else to go over it on occasion and do the things he could not with only one hand.

When he was feeling particularly maudlin, he remembered the last time he had run: home from the store where he had bought the last ingredients, home before their mother and uncle returned from a day-long council meeting. The wind had flapped at his braids, the last braids he had done himself. Kili had stayed at home to start drawing the circle, anticipation in his brother's brown eyes that read _we're going to do it we're finally ready we've finally got the opportunity_.

Fili had been beyond awareness, but Kili later said that their mother had thrown up. The only thing Fili had known was that they had failed, and that he had killed his brother. Never mind that it was Kili who did his braids every day during his rehabilitation and beyond, never mind that it had been Kili who had been his right hand from then on out. He heard Thorin shouting and their mother sobbing and knew that it was his fault.

Farin took his leg from where it had lain and cleaned and oiled it before attaching it, making sure that it was functional. He tied Fili's arm into a sling and helped him to stand, staying close as he took a few shaky steps. His muscle tone had suffered for the bed rest. There was a sharp glare once Fili felt he was not in danger of falling over, then, “I'm going to the library.”

Farin opened the door for him, and he stepped out into Erebor.

* * *

It was long practice that helped Fili to deal with the stares as he limped through Erebor. When he was younger, other dwarves had stared because they were not used to seeing such injuries on one so young. It was the men who had outright hid their children away when he passed. And the rumors that had spread about forbidden magic and a curse had not helped matters. Parents used him and his brother as a cautionary tale, and when men heard the rumors it only ever got ugly.

The whispers were worse now though. The hairs on the back of Fili's neck were constantly alert.

“...Sorcery!”

“...Fallen in with a bad lot...”

“...He's twisted inside, don'tcha know...”

“...Ought to be disowned...”

“...Sold his soul, and he'll sell yours too if you're not careful...”

“...Doesn't belong among proper decent folk...”

“...Killed his own brother, or so I heard...”

Fili stuttered to a halt, nearly falling over at that last one. It was only Farin's steadying hand that kept him from doing so. He took a few deep breaths. “How far is it to the library then?” he asked, not having thought to do so before.

“I estimate another fifteen minutes, Your Highness.”

Fili grit his teeth and continued on. As Farin opened one of the library doors for him, he saw an older dam make the sign to ward against witches. He found himself growling lowly, and she quickly scurried off. As soon as the library door shut behind them, he turned on his helper. “Farin, what in Mahal's name is going on?” He would have grabbed the front of the other dwarf's coat and shaken him by it if he could. “I am used to whispers, but something has happened.”

Farin at least had the good sense to look nervous. “Your Highness, it is a delicate subject...”

“Delicate my ass. You just don't want to insult me to my face. Speak plainly! What difference does it make, you've already had enough of me.”

Farin actually _cowered_ at that. “Of course Your Highness, I will speak plainly!”

Fili tilted his head. “You think I'm going to hurt you.” Suddenly, the speed with which he ran through aides made a disturbing amount of sense. “I assure you, even if I wanted to, which despite how much I have shouted at you I don't actually, I currently lack the hands to do so.”

“...You swear?”

Fili felt exasperated. “I swear. I am not a witch or a murderer, and I want to know why people think so.”

Farin did not say anything for a long time. Then, thoroughly not looking at Fili, he stuttered, “I, well, that is, your brother...”

“What about Kili?”

Farin winced. “You are being protected. They have not told you what happened in the Battle.”

Eyes narrowed. “What happened in the Battle?”

“It seemed lost, Your Highness. Then all of the sudden the ground buckled as if in a horrid quake, and the earth itself turned on our enemies. Many orcs fled, but many more were impaled by spikes of stone rising up from the battlefield. Few of our own were injured and none seriously, but the deformations cared not for the race of the dead.” Farin looked ill. “Should I live to see a thousand, I swear I will never see anything half as horrific again in my life. And, I did not see this with my own eyes, but they say at the center of the battlefield there was a dome. Master Balin approached and spoke to it, and the dome collapsed to reveal King Thorin, too injured to fight, and your brother's armor in several pieces. There was nobody inside it.”

Fili closed his eyes, imagining the scene. Both Thorin and Kili unable to fight any longer, Kili desperate to turn the tide however he could. Perhaps Thorin had encouraged him, told him to do whatever it took. And then after, hiding away where nothing else could hurt them, not coming out until Balin came and assured that it was safe. “And then?” he croaked. “What happened then?”

“It was a few hours past when the armor walked back to the edge of the battlefield and placed its hands to the ground. A ripple shook the earth and the spikes retreated, but many dare not walk across the plain now. And, well,” at this Farin eyed Fili warily. “The rumors before...”

Fili can hear the unasked question. No dwarf would willingly put themselves in Kili's situation. Therefore, someone did it to him. Knowing what people did, it would not be hard to deduce who. But as long as it stayed rumors, as long as it remained unproven, as long as there was not a single dwarf who could say that they had heard it from his lips... There were other things he could say though. “I do not have any sort of arcane power,” he said, the faintest tremor in his voice, “And even if such a thing could be bought, the price would be far too high to consider it.”

“Understood, Your Highness.” Fili did not think he meant it.

Fili searched the library, followed by Farin. An impossibly thick layer of dust coated everything, making it easy to see where dwarves had walked. Or dwarf – it seemed for the most part that the dust was disturbed by only one. Naturally, anyone who wasn't Kili would have far more important things to set to rights in the mountain.

It was the biggest library Fili had ever been in, and he had been in several. He got turned around twice before a trail lighter than the others caught his eye. It led him straight to a recently disturbed set of shelves, with a stack of books on the floor beside it. Fili couldn't read the spines standing up. “Farin, what are those books on the floor?”

Farin crouched down and read the titles, having to brush cobwebs off a few spines. “They... appear to be all alchemy, Your Highness.”

Fili studied the books around the blank spaces on the shelves. Some of the titles were blatantly of religious texts, giving clues as to the subjects of the others. “Perfect. We're taking them.” Farin gingerly did so, causing Fili to give him a look. “They're just books, they're not going to bite.” The stack shifted in the other dwarf's grip, letting off a cloud of dust. Fili sneezed twice in quick succession, and barely resisted leaning against the even dustier shelf in case he lost his balance. “Let's get these back to my quarters.”

* * *

Fili huffed in frustration as he finished yet another book. He had gotten some amusement out of watching Farin try to touch the books as little as possible while he cleaned them off, but it had been quickly worn out as the books they had brought back proved to be useless one by one. Perhaps that was why they had been on the floor. He read until Farin declared an end to it, that it was late enough and he wanted to go to bed.

Fili found he could not sleep. His mind turned what he had overheard over and over, driving him slowly mad. No proper heir. Practiced witchcraft. Sold his soul for terrible power. Sacrificed his own brother in an arcane ritual. Twisted and stunted. If this was what the people truly believed, then they would never consent to be ruled by him. Nor Kili, not when so many seemed to believe he currently resided in the Halls of Waiting.

When he had failed to bring his father back to life, he had done more than kill Kili. He had toppled his family's dynasty. It had seemed to matter less, when they lived in exile and all there was were rumors, but now they had their kingdom back, and everyone knew, or thought they knew, the truth of the princes.

Would someone assassinate him? Or would they not bother, simply kick him out with only the clothes on his back? Would they be too fearful, too terrified of his alleged magic to try anything?

It was the nature of these thoughts that led him to being hyper-aware, and so he noticed instantly the moment his door cracked open. He waited, then heard a familiar clanking. “Kili?” he called out.

“Oh. I was hoping not to wake you.” His brother's voice sounded odd. Tired.

“I wasn't asleep to begin with. Where have you been?”

“I was, taking care of some things.”

“Things for Thorin?”

“Some of them.” Kili struck a match and lit the lamp hanging by the door. It bathed the room in a yellow light, bright at first, then he turned it down until it was almost out again. He walked across the floor and stood over Fili's bed. “I was _really_ hoping you'd be asleep for this.”

“Asleep for what?” Curse his arm – Fili wanted to push himself to sitting, to grab for Kili. He felt completely helpless, and a tiny bit scared.

“I've... I've been... leaving.”

“Leaving? Where?”

Silence fell. Then: “The soul bond is wearing out.”

Fili sucked in air. “We're running out of time.”

Kili shook his head. “No, _I'm_ running out of time. You're fine, you'll live on without me.”

Fili lurched forward, and fell back again. “Kili, _what were those things you were taking care of?_ ”

“Thank you for the borrowed time,” Kili said.

“No...” Fili shook his head. “Don't you dare, don't you dare do this to me Kili, guards, help! Guards!” he shouted, trying to roll away, but he could barely move. “ _Guards!_ Don't you dare don't you fucking dare! _Help, anybody!_ ”

Kili clapped his hands together and laid them on Fili's arm stump, holding him down. Blue lightening blinded Fili as he continued to scream, for Kili, for guards, for anyone. He sobbed and thrashed wildly, kicking with his leg and only managing to get it tangled in the blankets.

When the guards finally came, they were too late. All they found was Fili wailing, tears coursing down his cheeks and snot dripping from his nose, and hugging a helmet while the rest of a suit of armor lay collapsed on the floor.

* * *

It was a nightmare. He could not eat, could not sleep. When he closed his eyes all he could see were Kili's glowing red ones, standing over him, holding him down. Accusing him.

There was no funeral. There was no body to lay in the stone, after all, and if you asked the layperson Kili had died long ago. There was only a small memorial, Fili's right hand shaking in weakness as he lit a candle for his brother. Thorin was as stone, and Dis did not weep. No one said anything.

To Fili's immense surprise, Farin did not leave. It was he who cleaned up when he woke from a nightmare only to empty his stomach. It was he who eventually removed the splint, and instructed him in exercises meant to strengthen his arms. He helped Fili relearn how to use his right arm, how to braid his hair and cut food with a knife and anything else he could not do before.

Once Fili could do these things Farin left, and he was alone.

“What was it all for?” he cried into Dis's shoulder one evening. “What was it all _for_?”

“You more than doubled the time we had with him,” Dis soothed. “That is not nothing. There is much I would have given, once upon a time, to have that chance with Frerin.”

That did not help. His hip was killing him, after a day of pretending to be the heir, of acting like he would someday take the throne, but that did not stop him from stalking out of his own quarters, uneven gait thudding mercilessly, _thud THUD thud THUD thud THUD_ , an audible reminder of everything that he had failed to do.

He was left with no clue what to do next. He could not go for a stroll, had less patience than ever for the stares and whispers, and besides that now that he was upright wanted nothing more than to sit back down. He found himself standing in the hall, staring, uncomprehendingly, until he finally acknowledged the door in front of him.

The door to Kili's quarters. The door he had not yet gone through. He went through it.

Nothing decorated the room and the bed frame was bare, but the chamber still felt enormously cramped. There were perhaps hundreds of books in precarious stacks, a testament to how long Kili had had to research before Fili started helping. Looking at them, he understood the helplessness that Kili might have felt. If there was no hint, no clue, in all of these books and all of the others, then it must be because their goal was impossible. And so, lacking any other option but to slowly fade away, Kili had given back his arm.

The only other piece of furniture in the room was a small set of drawers. Fili opened them one by one, finding notebooks filled with Kili's handwriting. His eyes teared as he read his brother's words, seeing the brilliance there that just. wasn't. enough.

As he pushed the bottom drawer closed again, it seemed to jam and stick out minutely. He jiggled it, but it refused to go in no matter which way he wiggled. Frowning, he pulled it back out and emptied it, then removed it all the way. He leaned his head down, peering in the darkness to discover the source of the problem. He reached in and pulled out two books. One was a smaller text, the other a notebook with Kili's handwriting in it.

Fili skimmed the first few pages of the book, then turned to the notes. They started out normally enough. He lost track of how long he read, wondering why Kili had hidden this particular notebook. Then, about a third of the way through, he came across a reference to a page number without any sort of identification of the book it referred to. Turning to that page in the hidden book, he found that a few lines had been underlined.

He kept going. It was some early hour when he had finished reading through Kili's notes and the entire book, including the parts not referenced, eyes dripping, heart racing.

 _Kili had had the answer the entire time_.

* * *

He hopped into the throne room, clutching the bound pages close. His elbow throbbed where he had jarred it against a wall, and the lamp was swinging wildly, but he didn't care. In its setting above the throne, the Arkenstone glittered. The Heart of the Mountain. The symbol of their rule. In truth, nothing more than a shiny rock.

He set the lantern down next to the throne and the books beside it, and climbed up to stand on the stone seat. He pressed the mechanism to release the Arkenstone into his fumbling hands. He did not so much step down from the throne as fall to the floor, undoubtedly acquiring some bruises, but that was furthest from his mind.

He flipped through the book and the notes, rereading certain parts, then set the Arkenstone down in the middle of the floor and pulled a stick of chalk out of his pocket. He could do without, but for something so big, so important, a circle seemed the only way to go.

The lamp burned as he shuffled around on the floor, making sure every detail was perfect. He replaced the chalk in his jacket, knelt down on the edge of the transmutation circle, clapped his hands together, then placed them down on the ground.

* * *

Doors, covered in dwarvish runes and symbols, appeared before him on a white plane. The doors to the Halls of Waiting.

 _You are back_ , the Great Smith spoke, standing before his impressive anvil.

“I am here for my brother,” Fili declared.

_And what do you offer in return? Your life?_

Fili shook his head. “I offer the Heart of the Mountain.”

The Great Smith shook his own head. _Do you know why I took your brother and not you?_

“To punish me for my wrongdoing.”

_Wrong. I could have taken you. I didn't. I took your brother because something is brewing, and you are the king who will lead my people through it. Not your brother. You._

“I am not here to ask for prophecy, or right to rule,” Fili said. “I am here for my brother. Will you return him to me?”

 _The price is right. I will this time. But_ , Mahal added, _When he dies again, what is to stop you from coming back?_

Fili sucked in a breath. “It is already foretold then.”

_Nothing is foretold, but some things are inevitable. I need you to lead my people, but I cannot be lenient again. Do you understand? I require... assurance._

“You require my alchemy,” Fili deduced.

 _Yes_.

Fili held himself straight. “Alchemy has brought me nothing but grief and pain. I offer it freely.”

 _The deal is done_. Mahal looked pointedly at the anvil before him. Fili, having gone through this before and knowing what lay before him, approached and climbed up to lie down on the anvil. Mahal raised his hammer, and brought it down in a flash of light.

* * *

Fili blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, and saw again the throne room. He felt an ache in his chest, like something had been pulled from it. And in the middle of the transmutation circle...

“You're an idiot,” Kili rasped with unused vocal chords.

Fili dragged his prosthetic across the floor, getting chalk marks all over his trousers. “ _Kurdûn'abadaz_ ,” he said, gathering Kili into his arms. His brother was impossibly skinny, and did not seem able to move on his own.

“You sold... the Arkenstone.”

“Foolish brother,” Fili chided, kissing Kili's forehead. “ _You_ are my Heart of the Mountain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurdûn'abadaz: lit. heart-man of mountain origins
> 
> This fic started with a post on Tumblr that got briefly discussed and then mostly forgotten about for some time. From the beginning I knew that the Arkenstone would be my Philosopher's Stone, but back then they knew about the Arkenstone's power and the entire Company was aware of the secondary purpose of the Quest. Once I started really thinking about it, I decided that the dwarves probably wouldn't have a very good opinion of alchemy. Mahal is all about the love of crafting itself, the end product being irrelevant, and it seemed a logical conclusion that dwarves would see alchemy as cheating, in a way. With the lack of general knowledge it would be easy for superstition to build up, sufficiently advanced technology etc., and so you end up with a culture that detests alchemy and denounces it as witchcraft. In such a situation it follows that those who do practice alchemy would be those affluent enough to have access to the knowledge, yet on the fringes of society for some reason or another, evil tendencies, greed, exile, whatever, some of which being traits that would lean towards a misuse of alchemy, resulting in a rebound, thus increasing superstition. You end up with a stereotype of the evil dwarf alchemist living alone and performing monstrous acts before he goes too far and accidentally kills himself.
> 
> Why can I worldbuild into next week but when it comes to actually writing the damn thing I'm hopeless? Kili's sacrifice scene doesn't have enough emotion at _all_.
> 
> I imagine the boys to be somewhere in their 30s when they attempt the transmutation.


End file.
